


Come a Long Way

by habitbynight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Makeup Louis, Makeup! Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6162972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitbynight/pseuds/habitbynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just Louis going into Sephora. Written by me,  but based off a prompt on tumblr by nyxlouis. </p><p>Prompt: don’t think about louis researching for higher end makeup online because up until now he’s only used drugstore makeup,, don’t think about him making a list and tugging it out at sephora and ticking it off as he deposits it all in his basket,, don’t think about louis bouncing from one foot to the other because he can’t stop the giddy excitement rolling through him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come a Long Way

The mall is filled, the mall is jam packed, the mall is people shoulder-to-shoulder as they jostle for the doors as the clock nears closing time. The air smells of sweat and stale food, the florescent lights are dimming, and Louis Tomlinson has once again failed in Mission: Enter Sephora.

It isn’t that he’s afraid, far from it, actually. He’s been in the dingy gas stations, plucking the colors from the bottom shelf and using shitty products that barely stay on, that barely show off his eyelashes and jawline and his lips. He’s come past the stage where he chose eyeshadow based off of Youtube tutorials that he deleted from his web history instantly after he watched them, not based off of what he wanted to put on his face. He’s done research, written out more than ten lists of what he wants to buy when he goes into the expensive store. He knows what eyeshadow, what and blush and eyeliner he wants. The one thing he can’t figure out is lipstick ( he wants to try the Sephora brand, of course) but can’t figure out which color.

And yet, he has still failed to enter the store. He doesn’t know why. He picked this day, specifically, due to the fact that he wanted to enter without being recognized: crowds aren’t really his thing, but he chose this day because it’s a Saturday and this mall is in the middle of London, so it’d be easier for him to walk around without being disturbed. He even got a different body guard than usual, dressed in dark colors, a hoodie and a beanie just to hide his light brown fringe, sunglasses, the works. So it was all just a waste of time, again: this is his second trip to the mall.

Next time, Louis promises himself as he exits the mall into the chilly night air, next time he’ll go into Sephora and buy whatever the hell he wants.

And he means it.

*.*

The week later, he’s ready again. The list is printed out, single spaced, and cut so it fits in the pocket of his black hoodie. On with the black hoodie, the black beanie, the sunglasses, and he shuffles out the door, tapping his foot the whole way in the cab. The radio’s playing, but he can’t hear it. He just hears the sound of his own heart beating in time to the rain outside, pelting the glass as violently as his thoughts.

It’s not that he hasn’t been in expensive stores before. They were just less intimidating, he always had people with him. Now, however, he’s a nameless face. He’s nobody, and if he can get it, what will he do then?

And that question keeps running through his head as he jogs through the rain, the water almost soaking his Adidas trainers, and they continue to drip as he scurries through the mall.

He passes the Bath and Bodyworks, and glances at the white, glowing font to make sure he’s going into the right building. He is.

Louis takes a deep breath, gripping the piece of paper in his pocket, before stepping into the open space.

The smell of chemicals, of powder, of product, drifts into his nostrils, and adds a curve to the side of his mouth that wasn’t there before. It relaxes him, the glowing light around him, and it grounds him. He feels almost giddy, almost drunk with excitement now. He zips, his feet fly, but he tries to go slow. His hands aren’t shaking, they are smoothing and coaxing concealer out of bottles, and dabbing them on his face. His feet aren’t running away or sticking him stock still, they are literally bouncing with hyper activity as he grabs the smokiest and lightest eyeshadow palettes he sees, the fluffiest and smoothest brushes and sponges.

The list, in his hand, gets sweatier and more crumpled and he ticks it off with bits of blush and a dab of mascara here and he feels manic. He feels golden.

He takes more time with the eyeliner, choosing the Yves Saint Laurent Effet Faux Cils Shocking to do winged eyeliner with, and  on a whim takes a Dior Diorshow Khôl stick of a azur blue to enhance his eyes. He’s flying, he’s free, he’s ecstatic and enthralled with the world.

He can barely contain himself with the lipstick.  He wants some shimmer, he wants some metallic and some satin, he wants nude and peach and pink to wear in public, and he wants some deep reds and maybe a purple one…

Just as he’s going up to the counter, the gold catches his eyes. It’s a palate of bronze, gold and silver, but the gold is unlike any other gold he’s seen. In contrast with the canyon-like orange of the bronze and the moonlit shine of the silver, it’s bright, but dulled with something that looks like pink.

“Rose Gold, huh?” He breathes, snorting at the silly name, but something compels him to take it and place it in his overflowing basket.

He dumps the load on the counter in front of the shocked girl, his total amount adding up to 554 dollars and 42 cents. It takes three large bags to carry it, but he couldn’t surmount the feeling in his chest right now.

It feels like he’s in love, and he might be in love with his own boldness. If he had someone to share this moment with, it would be perfect. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters now is that Louis’ come a long way from where he started. And he doesn’t plan to stop.

When he puts Rose Gold on his eyelids the next morning, it feels like he’s come home.


End file.
